Like She's Being Tickled
by GingerIntelligence
Summary: Whitney and Ricky watch an ill Bianca sleep. There's a lot to talk about - like dreaming. First EastEnders fic, Ricky/Bianca, rated T for mentions of Tony. Reviews are LOVE.


**A/N: So, a little plot bunny I like to call Fluffy who keeps nibbling on me made me write this one. It is angsty, but I think it's more Comfort, and as it's a Ricky/Bianca, it's obv. Romance. My stories do tend to branch out over 6 or 7 different genres.**

**Set after some sort of reconciliation where they find out Ricky IS Tiffany's dad, they tell everyone, and Whitney has finally come round to the idea.**

**Do NOT read if you hate fluff.**

**Only my third attempt at fanfiction EVER, so read and review, if you please. xD**

**Constructive criticism very much welcome... I'm not sure if I like this one....**

**Like She's Being Tickled**

Ricky sighed as he trudged down the stairs, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He knew it was daft getting up in the middle of the night to check on a full-grown woman, who was perfectly capable of looking after herself, but he couldn't help it. He couldn't sleep properly, and he had a feeling he needed to see if she was okay.

Bianca had the flu, and she was sleeping downstairs on the sofa; according to Whitney, it was the best place for her. 1) Closer to the kitchen (pills, water, ice) and airing cupboard (extra blankets), should she need anything, and 2) Further away from all the healthy humans in the house. Bianca, for once in her rather gobby life, hadn't argued, and set up camp in the living room once the kids and Ricky had gone to bed.

So here he was, dragging his barely-awake-self down the stairs, at two in the morning, just because he 'had a feeling' there was something wrong. He really did need counselling.

When he pushed the living room door open, he was surprised to see Whitney, sat cross-legged in the middle of the floor. Her hair was mussed and her thin pyjamas crinkled, and she shivered slightly as she wrapped her arms around herself; looking to Ricky as she heard the door opened. Her eyes widened ever so slightly, but he smiled warmly with a hint of humour, and she smiled a little tensely back. She glanced to Bianca, sprawled on the sofa, and then back to Ricky, who was closing the door behind him.

"Sorry," she whispered, smiling again. "I just felt like I needed to check on her." Her tone unintentionally showed that she wasn't concerned about Bianca's illness. Neither of them, Whitney or Ricky, were half as worried about her physical health than they were about her mental state. Nobody, except for them, ever seemed to realise that 'The Tony Situation', as people had tended to refer to it as, hadn't just affected Whitney. It had had a huge impact on the whole house, especially on Bianca. She took it hardest, and with all her anger at Tony, had come anger at herself. She felt as if she had been so stupid, believing him, trusting him, putting her kids in danger.....

"Yeah," he chuckled, moving to sit down next to her, and wrapping his arms around his knees as he drew them up around his chin. His smile still looked more humorous than kind, and he shook his head slightly. He raised his eyebrows, more to himself than to Whitney.

"What's funny?" she asked, somewhat suspiciously.

"Same reason I came down here." He looked down at his hands as he said it, shrugging slightly as if in an attempt to diminish his embarrassment.

"Oh."

Both of them quietened, looking to Bianca. She was laying comfortably, a look of contentment on her features. Both her duvet and the extra blankets Whitney had laid over her were pulled up round her chin, and the socked toes of one foot peeked out from under them. Ricky smiled lightly, his heart warming; she looked so much sweeter, so much more relaxed than she ever did awake.

"She dreams, you know," Whitney spoke suddenly into the darkness. Startled, Ricky didn't even think to remind her that people do tend to dream. He had a feeling there was more to this.

Whitney narrowed her eyes slightly, still staring at Bianca. It wasn't malicious, more like...contemplative. She breathed in, and then seemed to sigh out.

"She dreams, about _him_." She didn't seem able to properly say the last word, and whispered it harshly, shaking her head. She stared straight ahead at Bianca, though Ricky couldn't say whether or not she was really seeing anything. "All the time. At least two times a week, I'll check on her, and all I'll here is his name, over and over again."

Ricky listened, the smallest of lumps not-quite rising in his throat. Were these dreams Bianca was having about Tony good or bad? He wasn't sure if he wanted to know; and he felt guilty for almost wishing they were nightmares, but he couldn't help it. Tony was sick, sick in the head, anyone would have to be to cause someone like Bianca that level of upset and not be absolutely taken over by remorse.

Whitney continued before he could gather his thoughts enough to even think about asking.

"Horrible dreams. Nightmares. Just screaming and shouting, and pleading, begging him to get out, to leave her alone, for him not to hurt me, _whimpering_. Angry and sad and Ricky, she doesn't say it, but I know it. She's terrified."

Ricky stared at Whitney, tears pooling in his eyes. He saw her lip quivering, and carefully outstretched his hand; Whitney tentatively took it and held it gently at her side. He ran a thumb over her knuckles comfortingly. They both turned back to Bianca.

A few moments later, she stared at her hand in his.

"_This_ is how it should be," she said fiercely, holding their fingers up for him to see. "When a man your age and a girl my age hold hands, it should be like _this_. Like father and daughter."

The tears in his eyes trickled gently out of them as Ricky smiled – sadly, but her still smiled – she was finally understanding that Tony, not her, was in the wrong. He was over-whelmed; father and daughter? He could hardly find the breath to speak.

"Exactly."

"You hate him, don't you?" Whitney spoke suddenly, almost conversationally. Ricky's eyes widened disbelievingly.

"Of course I do!!"

Bianca stirred and Whitney shushed him for shouting.

"I know that," she rolled her eyes, lowering her voice as she leaned towards him. "But you hated him before any of this mess started. You hated him the second you met him."

Ricky opened his mouth then closed it again, caught completely off guard; he'd been found out. Too late, he stuttered a protest.

"Oh, no I didn-"

"You liar!" Whitney laughed slightly. "You hated him the second he walked through the door, and I know why."

"Well, I don't mind people looking after my son, but when they actually seem to think _they_ are his dad, I think it's OK for me to be a bit-"

"No." Whitney interrupted again, looking thoroughly amused. "Don't try and say it was all about Liam, 'coz we both know it weren't. It was about Bianca."

Ricky was embarrassed. He could think nothing else.

"You hated Tony 'coz he got to be with Bianca."

Ricky neither confirmed nor denied this, but simply swallowed in what he hoped was a submissive and nonchalant way, turning to look at Bianca.

"You love her. You're still in love with her."

Whitney's voice had softened, but it wasn't a question, it was a statement, a statement that if put to any of Walford's residents would ring true. He turned to her and saw her still smiling, smiling gently and comfortingly at him. He cleared his throat, and when he spoke, he sounded as if he'd forgotten how to talk.

"I can't help it." He could say nothing else.

Whitney looked at her hand on the carpet, no longer in Ricky's. "Well, at least you're not completely in denial," she commented lightly. Ricky chuckled quietly.

They both looked at Bianca, who turned onto her side and tucked one hand under a pillow. She sleepily smiled, and Ricky smiled back; no dreams of Tony tonight.

Whitney watched him and decided he would know.

"She dreams about you, too."

Ricky turned rapidly, looking surprised. "Huh?"

"She dreams about you more than she dreams about him."

He looked at her sleeping form questioningly, almost fearfully, and Whitney smirked, patting his arm briefly. He looked to her expectantly.

"Sometimes she just whispers your name, over and over again. Most of the time me and Morgan and Liam and Tiff come up, and the phrase, "Just listen to your Dad!" crops up a _lot_."

Whitney gaged his reaction with another smirk; he looked completely baffled.

"Ricky." She said his name gently but firmly, and he looked to her. She pronounced every syllable slowly and clearly, looking him steadily in the eye.

"She dreams that you're our dad. She dreams that we're all a family."

Ricky was going to cry again, and he was sure of it. The woman he loved, craving for him to be the father of her children, needing them to be a family? Was it really possible?

Whitney put an arm around Ricky, observing how she suddenly felt like the adult in the conversation. She rubbed the top of his arm with her hand. She spoke again.

"I say we already are."

Ricky's lips broke into an uncontrollable smile, and slowly, without looking to Whitney, he shuffled forward until he was sitting right in front of the sofa, looking up at his beautiful Bianca. Whitney stayed behind.

"And then there're the times when she just squeals, "Ricky, stop!""

Ricky stiffened slightly. What?

"Yeah, she squirms all over the place. And the amount of giggling! I didn't think she could be so girly. It's sort of like she's being tickled."

At that moment, the door creaked slowly open, revealing Tiffany, whose hair was messy and eyes looked sleepy. Ricky stood and went to crouch in front of her, and Whitney stood behind him.

"Tiff, what you doing up?" he queried. "It's late, you should be sleeping!"

"I know that," Tiffany huffed, folding her arms cutely. "But I need a drink of water."

Both Ricky and Whitney held back laughter; Mini Bianca. Whitney put Tiff's hand in hers and started towards the door.

"I'll sort her, Ricky." Ricky smiled gratefully.

"Thanks, Whit."

Tiff put her arms up and Whitney lifted her, holding her to Ricky so she could kiss him on the cheek. He kissed her forehead; her eyes were already drifting shut.

"Night, Ricky." She didn't call him Dad; if she never did, it wouldn't be a problem.

"Say goodnight to your Mum."

Tiffany kissed Bianca's forehead while Whitney held her, blearily whispering goodnight. Whitney placed a hand in Bianca's hair, then gave Ricky an awkward one-armed hug, and left quietly with Tiff.

Ricky slowly walked round the sofa so that he was facing his ex. He watched her cautiously for a while, but she didn't stir – he'd always said she was a heavy sleeper. Slowly, his curiosity got the better of him, and he gently laid a hand on her freckled face, running his thumb over her cheek carefully.

And just as promised, she squirmed slightly, and quietly protested "Ricky, stop!" She settled and he repeated the action and she giggled, reaching up to take his hand and hold it to her face. He smiled with quiet joy at her, as tucked his hand further into her cheek, muttering something that sounded like, "Not now, the kids..."

He waited a few minutes, just watching. Taking peace from a rare moment of peacefulness.

He brushed the thumb over one eyelid, and she giggled quietly again, a noise he never seemed to hear anymore.

Like she was being tickled.

xx


End file.
